Cutthroat Conny
by Pienuniek
Summary: It isn't the boss who determines the level of fear the family exudes. No, that crown goes to the enforcer.


**This is my entry for the We 3 Mobward contest. I didn't win anything but I'd like to thank all the readers and say that I enjoyed their reviews.**

 **According to those reviews I need to add a warning as this one shot is rather graphic. So if torture is a trigger for you please refrain from reading.**

 **I also would like to thank Alice's White Rabbit for the stellar beta work at such short notice. And last but certainly not least my co-conspirator Bubbleybear, you're the best girlfriend I ever had.**

Pen Name: Pienuniek

Facebook name: Pien Willemse

Beta: Sally Hopkinson/Alice's White Rabbit

Story Title: Cutthroat Conny

Summary: It isn't the boss who determines the level of fear the family exudes. No, that crown goes to the enforcer.

Pairing: Edward, Bella

Rating: M

Word count: 9304

Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong solely to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended

Cutthroat Conny.

After Edward, Don of the Cullen crime family, paid his respects to the bride, he mingled a little in the crowd of wise guys of various rivaling clans.

His smile, set under an ice-cold stare, was crooked and predatory. He stood tall at six foot four, his build was lean but muscular, not like a bodybuilder, it was more like an athlete. He was sure in his body and that showed in his swagger across the room full of rivals; it was catlike and added to his predatory image. Edward hated mob weddings, forced get-togethers of mortal enemies grimacing at each other in a false friendship. The whole wedding felt like a powder keg. He could almost hear the jaws snap shut around him. Nobody would give anything away around him.

After this get together, his perfect spy would have a wealth of information. The free-flowing alcohol would certainly loosen tongues, just not around him. Every member of his own clan knew better than to drink in situations like this.

A rogue thought wandered into his mind while he observed the gatherings around the room. Farthest away from the bridal table sat the lowest in the pecking order, ill-fitted polyester suits giving away their status. The men sitting around the tables almost looked longingly toward the next ring of tables that held their bosses; the suits were still made of polyester but looked tailored. Ever getting closer, the suits went from polyester to more acceptable fabrics that didn't make you break out in a sweat at the drop of a hat. Obviously store bought with crinkles in uncomfortable places showing their owner was less than careful choosing the fit of the suit. Getting closer to the center, two more suit types could be distinguished—store-bought and tailored, and handmade suits. One like he was wearing; he didn't care about designers, and his suits were made in Ireland by an old tailor who made suits like they were intended to hide more than just the body. His tailor knew how to cut a suit to enhance his height and hide a whole arsenal of weapons. He knew he and his spy were the only two in the room who were frisked but still armed.

A big, genuine smile crossed his face when he saw his beautiful wife sitting with the wives at the side. He abhorred the misogynistic attitude that was ingrained into every kid born into a crime family. Women were showpieces and housekeepers. If they could get away with it, they wouldn't even be sent to high school; finishing school was more what they were looking for. Women should be pretty and not interfere in men's business. He didn't practice that at home, but today was important to harvest information and to keep his rivals satisfied that he still respected them. Yeah, right.

To Edward's horror, he'd discovered a rat in his clan. The son of a distant relative had entered the lower levels and worked hard to become eligible to be made. Edward's spy had come upon him one day and overheard him talking to his handler. From that day forward, Edward had fed him true information, just not about his own actions. He recently had run out of actions to rat out, and that's why his spy was collecting info from the rival underlings who were now decidedly a few shades to the wind.

His Bella looked up from her conversation and nodded to him; she was ready to call it a night. More precisely, she'd had enough of acting like a pretty doormat. Unlike most, well all other, women of bosses, Bella knew everything about the business, although nobody but Edward knew. They discussed possible ventures and actions that needed to be taken.

Bella looked a treat in her little black number with a big red flower on her shoulder. Her chocolate hair was up in a ballerina bun adorned with a string of pearls in a perfect spiral. Her ears were adorned with two-carat teardrop diamonds, each dangling underneath another pearl of rare size. A necklace of natural pearls and diamonds adorned her beautiful neck, culminating in a large, flawless heart-shaped diamond set into a platinum disk rimmed with yet more pearls. The wife of the boss of the biggest family in the Irish mob should walk around like a billboard of his wealth.

Edward snapped his fingers and every member of his family, born into it or made, stood up and gathered around him. Every kind of suit represented, the wives did the same around his Bella, and the strong delegation left the room through the doors assigned to them. The men took the right door to collect their weapons while the wives took the left door to collect their coats. The boss of the rival family, whose daughter had married the son of his capo, hurried to thank Edward for coming.

Later that night on the other side of town, a shipment of drugs was intercepted by the police, and fifteen of the happy father-in-law's family's men were arrested. Some were still a few shades to the wind from the wedding; all were flabbergasted that their goose was cooked. The happy father-in-law wasn't as happy anymore and suspected he had a rat in his flock.

In their sound and attack-proof panic/bedroom, Edward and Bella were busy with the books. Every IOU given out at Edward's casinos was catalogued by amount, date, and name and which casino where the debt was racked up. The payments were in a different ledger, and you should always pay your debt, including the interest, if you had an IOU with Edward Cullen. His debt collector was scary; the guy was dressed in body armor complete with full facemask. His voice was mechanical, which probably emanated from the square box strapped around his neck. Nobody knew his name, absolutely nobody besides Edward. Although small and slight in posture, his arsenal of martial arts and weapons made him feared by everybody who ever came in contact with him. He was known on the street as Cutthroat Conny and would show up with two of Edward's most trusted men for collections. Both giants in build but they never had to lift a finger. The smaller man was the real threat. By day, Felix and Emmett were burdened with being the bodyguards of Edward's wife, following her on all her errands around town: sitting in the room where she met with her committees, organizing charity functions, keeping up appearances.

"Edward, that James Hunter missed his deadline again; he's now past his third warning. It's time to send Conny to give him his one and only verbal and visual incentive to talk, I think," Bella spoke softly. "At the moment, he's the only one severely behind. I think he doesn't know our enforcer yet."

"You're right. I'll set it up. What do you think? With or without the wall of muscles?" Edward chuckled.

"Oh, with of course, in case the outfit isn't enough incentive for him to finally find some money."

"Well, if that's the only one, there's only one more thing to discuss before we close out the books for this week," Edward sighed. "Mike Newton. It was confirmed last Tuesday that he's indeed a cop; my contact on the force gave me the heads up. For now, I'm using info I got from my perfect spy"—Edward winked—"to give him information to make the cops think he's legitimately in. Let the cops work for us and bring as many men from the competition down. I'm sure Aro will wonder tomorrow morning how in the hell the cops knew about his shipment coming in."

Bella stood in front of her dresser and slowly brought out all her weapons. Weapons she'd had with her during the reception they attended. Her trusty ceramic knives were unbuckled from her forearms. After she shimmied out of her dress, she did a funny dance to celebrate that she had the full use of her legs again after they'd been confined in the tight skirt of the dress. She tore the Velcro closing of her thigh holster loose and dropped it with its content, a two-shot plastic gun, on the dresser too.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Edward quickly removed all his loaded holsters and started to unbutton his shirt. He was just tearing it off his shoulders with a lazy move of his arms when he looked up and caught Bella's little dance. He froze mid-move; she was positively sinful in her midnight blue lingerie, a garter belt holding up her nude stockings. His lithe woman went through a series of fitness moves he recognized from one of her classes. It looked like she did karate but not quite. He was still in the same stance of getting out of his shirt, revealing his inked chest. Over his heart sat a beautiful swan built up out of Celtic knots. He brought himself out of the stupor and discarded the shirt with decisive movements. He turned his back on his sinful wife to undress in peace before ravishing her in their king-sized bed. Because he turned his back, he didn't see Bella do almost the same thing he did. The moment his back was in full view, she had frozen in the movement that would take off her left stocking, mesmerized by his rolling muscles under his back piece—a family of lions guarded by the roaring male. She too shook herself out of her stupor and joined him in their bed.

Two days later Edward sat behind his desk in his office, the large, dark wood desk imposing in the middle of the room. The walls behind the desk were painted a sage green color; the front part of the office was a much darker tint of the same color. Edward was seated in a comfortable leather chair. In the back corner stood a smaller version of his own desk with an equally comfortable chair—Bella's desk. In front of his desk stood one straight-backed wooden chair. The whole room was windowless and softly lighted for effect. The wooden chair had pride of place in a spotlight shining down on it from above.

"He's late, as usual," Bella commented when she entered the office with a tray holding two cups, a thermos, and a plate of homemade cookies. She put the tray on her desk and took the plate to offer Edward one of the cookies. He greedily took two, grinning at her eye roll. She then left the office once again and offered Felix and Emmett a cookie too. Both guards took one cookie and thanked Bella profusely. She was making small talk with them for a little while when the front door to the lobby was thrown open with a bang. Felix immediately straightened up from his relaxed stance against the wall and drew himself up to his full height. His seriously imposing height of seven feet. Emmett did the same, and he wasn't much smaller at six foot ten. Bella stepped forward and greeted their guest, who looked at her as if she was something to eat.

"Mr. Hunter, welcome to our offices. Please, place any weapons and luggage in the closet over there," she spoke softly to hide the chills his stare caused.

James huffed but complied; he put his gun and bag in a lockbox inside the closet, taking the key with him. He looked stressed out and kept a hand inside his front right pocket. Felix stepped forward and stopped him from entering the office.

"Now, first of all, be polite and don't antagonize the boss lady. Second, hands where we can see them." James scrambled to comply, being confronted by a wall of muscles. He was patted down, and the content of his pockets was scrutinized. It held a wad of cash and drug paraphernalia. When Emmett emptied his pockets, James's sallow face went pale. His average six foot height was dwarfed by the two men standing in his personal space.

"Tsk, tsk. Drugs won't win you any brownie points with the boss. Third rule, you better be sober right this minute or you might not leave the property," Emmett said lazily. James nodded frantically, which made his dirty ponytail bob up and down. Felix grabbed it and gave him his money back. The silver foil and hash pipe were deposited in the trash bin next to the door. With another warning tug on his hair, James was pushed into the office where he met the cold stare of the Boss himself.

"Sit!" was all Edward bit out. His tailored black suit and crisp white shirt were in sharp contrast to the torn, dirty jeans and team jersey James wore. Even Bella's demure pantsuit was miles better than that uniform. James hastily planted his butt on the uncomfortable surface of the kitchen chair. From the corner of his eye, he was still checking out Bella's ass at that moment because she was pouring coffee into the cups she had brought in. She took one cup and put a cookie on the saucer next to the cup. This cup was placed at Edward's right elbow. The second cup she took herself then seated herself at her desk, her chair turned sideways and a notebook on her lap, pen at the ready.

"The service in here has deteriorated," James said defiantly, sneering with a leer at Bella.

Edward slammed his hand onto his desk, snapping James's attention back to him. "The service in here is at the same level as your payments. Don't expect anything you're not entitled to.

"Now, did you bring the two payments you missed after we already warned you that you were on your last warning?"

James threw the money he had still in his hands at Edward with another scowl. Without a word, Edward straightened the money out and counted it. He handed the stack to Bella, and she counted it again. Wrote the amount on a receipt; the original was passed to Edward and the copy was attached to the money and put in a lockbox that sat on her desk. While she busied herself with the administration, Edward checked how big of a dent James had made in his debt. The big ledger slammed shut, and Edward's chair flew to the wall behind him when he stood and bent over his desk, fists posed in the middle of the shiny surface. His eyes shot fire while he tried to rein in his temper to keep in control.

"Not only do you act as if you're our most faithful client, looking down at everything you encounter, you dare to provide us with an amount of cash that doesn't even scratch the surface of the interest you accrued on your debt." He slammed his hand down near James's shocked face. He wanted to move back from the amount of fury being unleashed on his person. He pushed to get his chair to move but was unable to; the chair was bolted to the floor.

"You also have the audacity to leer at my wife as if she's a piece of meat. Honey, could you please get me the file on our next client?"

Bella nodded and rose from her desk before leaving the office demurely but not without kissing Edward's cheek chastely.

"Now that the delicate person who is my wife is out of here, I'll tell you what I think of you without holding back. I took your IOU because you came from a good family; you were schooled at the best colleges and thought to go far. I failed to notice that you already blew through your trust fund before you came to me. I failed to see that you already were scum. Not that any of that is any worry to me. You're not the first, nor will you be the last, to fall from grace into the pit of a gambling habit that's more expensive than you can afford. But the fact that you act like you're still on top of the world, entitled to being treated like royalty, is beyond me. You screwed up royally! I thought I would lessen your plight as you are clearly using your money less than wisely. Instead of making sure your debts are paid off, you blow it again at the tables of any of the casinos here in town. I tried. I called your father to inform him of the debt you have racked up with me. I told him I would accept his payment instead. He laughed at me. ME. He told me the enlightening story of your crap life. Crap only because you can't understand that not everything will be handed to you just because of your name. You've had three warnings as of today. I'll give you one more week to come up with the entire sum of your debt before I need to make you into an example that you shouldn't try to mess with me."

The door of the office opened slowly, and Bella entered with a smile on her face. She crossed the office and handed Edward a red folder. He gave it a cursory glance, and an evil smirk crept on his features. James looked on in baffled astonishment. He was humiliated thoroughly but couldn't accept what was said. He could not believe that Cullen guy, that good for nothing leech, could have the audacity to inform his already furious father about yet another debt he had racked up. He was furious himself that the stupid-speaking ATM dared to go against him, the heir of the Hunter fortune. All he could do was laugh at the situation; they wouldn't harm him. If they wanted their money back, they wouldn't kill him. He was sure they'd never slaughter the goose with the golden egg hidden in his house.

A snort escaped him and brought Edward's attention back where it should have always been. The evil smirk grew to gloating proportions, and with a flick of his wrist, James was dismissed. James thought he had won the mental war when he walked out of the office. He opened the lockbox and took his gun out first, securing it at the small of his back. Without looking, he threw the duffle bag over his shoulder and left the building under the watchful eyes of the two goons who had tried to intimidate him.

Inside the office, Edward grabbed Bella by the hips and pulled her between his legs.

"That vile creature disrespected you; he dared to undress you with his eyes. His glance is as bad as his hands touching you. You're mine, and mine alone!" He growled at her. Bella smiled and ran her hands through his unruly hair. Glad she had successfully made him stop slicking it back to tame it. His mane of copper hair only strengthened his lion-like image.

Edward's right foot hit the button underneath his desk that locked the door before he reverently undressed his Bella. She understood his urge to reclaim her as his and patiently let him proceed while her toned body was revealed in all its glory. Bella was proud of her physique and spent many hours in their private gym at their home. She was also used to Edward's need to check if she was really okay after some douchebag touched her, even if it had been only with his stares. Edward's hands roamed her body, and he kissed every little scar she had, from the slash her first grade biking accident had caused to the most recent burn she caused herself in their kitchen. His agitated demeanor calmed when he found her unchanged from his earlier perusal that morning. Bella knew all was well when he gave her clothes back. She hadn't been touched so he didn't need to claim his own as ardently as when that might have happened.

Meanwhile in a barrel of a car, racing away from their office, James was eying his duffle bag on the passenger seat. Somehow, the thing looked bigger than it did when he entered that infernal office. He turned into a Walmart parking lot and parked as far away from the entrance as possible. He opened his bag and sagged against his seat; all breathable air seemed to have left the car at the brightly wrapped gift that was revealed. His bag had been in a locker, a locker only he had the key for. A locker he locked with his own padlock even. With shaking hands, he lifted the box from the bag. He dug in his bag again and produced a pocketknife; he wasn't stupid, he wouldn't open that innocuous box the normal way. His mind immediately went to a bomb.

A bomb it was, but not the kind that exploded. It was a mental bomb. In the box, he found a framed picture of his Alice—the only real love in his life, his cat. Alice sat on a stainless steel table batting her paw at a humongous syringe. On top of that picture sat a wreath of calla lilies and arum adorned with ribbons in black and red. The black ribbon had red letters saying: Pay Or. The red ribbon's letters were black and proclaimed: RIP Alice. James threw the box away from himself and forgot any and all things he had lined up for the rest of the day. He started the car and raced toward his home. He couldn't think; he was shaking from head to toe. His Alice was the only thing he cared about beside himself. He was mentally talking himself down. He knew his home was almost impenetrable, and Alice didn't like strangers. She hid herself behind his grandmother's armoire in the guest bedroom when he brought anyone into his house. The slate gray Persian longhair couldn't have been caught from his home, not while he just made her the keeper of everything.

At his front door, he threw the car into park and ran to get inside. Car door still open, motor still running. He was digging through his bag for his keychain with the alarm fob and front door key. After a lot of fumbling, he finally was able to run inside and search the house for his precious Alice. She was nowhere to be found.

In the office, Edward and Bella had relocated to the viewing room. They'd had a stroke of luck when they had Jasper, Edward's cousin who was a vet, collect their hostage. He reported with glee that James used a dog flap for his cat. It was obvious that the flap was a remnant of a former owner. The second piece of luck was that Jasper actually was Alice's vet, and the preening feline had a huge crush on him. After Jasper had dropped off Alice's collar and took her to his private animal hospital to take the ransom picture, Edward had sent out his surveillance team to bug James's house. Garrett and Rose went right to work while James was being chewed out by Edward. They used the cat collar to gain access to James's house. The dog flap made it easy as the flap also disarmed the motion detectors in the house. They placed remote, mini cameras with sound in every room. One of the cameras was set very carefully to make it possible to find out James's alarm code for when they came back to do the big clean up. Meanwhile in the office, Bella gained access to the locker in the cabinet from the viewing room and copied James's keys and cloned his alarm fob. Everything was set when Jasper emailed her the ominous picture of a very happy Alice. The package was quickly assembled and added to James's bag.

In the viewing room, a wall of monitors showed them the twelve cameras that were set up in James's house. The output was rather boring until James came home. They saw he had to have seen the package as he was searching the house frantically. Calling in a desperate voice for Alice.

"You know, honey, I think we need to spook him a bit more. Maybe he needs to be acquainted with Conny. One last warning to send him over the edge," Edward chuckled.

"Conny only walks to his own tune, you know that, but I'll pass on the message," Bella said with a mischievous grin on her face. "I'm just curious why he's in such a snit over a cat. This is more than just being distraught over a pet. His behavior is totally out of character for the callous prick that he is. Let's ask Jasper to check her over with a fine-tooth comb. Anything he can do without it becoming a necropsy."

"You're right, and I'll get right on that. Now, I believe you have a function to get ready for, and I'm due to do the rounds at the casinos. I love you, and I'll see your lovely ass when I get home. Be safe," Edward said, rising while he threw one last disbelieving glance at the monitors at a near frantic James. Turning back, Edward grabbed Bella in an embrace and kissed her deeply before loping out of the room with his leonine gait.

On the last evening of the week Edward had given James to come up with the money, he sat disillusioned on his couch. All thoughts about being able to pay that Cullen leech back had evaporated rather quickly. Not one of his friends or acquaintances wanted to help him, afraid to cross paths with Cullen. His father had told him he had put enough money in James's Cayman account, but he wouldn't give out the particulars twice. Too bad James lost his access to the account when Alice was kidnapped.

The room was lit only by his flat screen set on some infomercial because it was all noise to James. He needed it to distract his brain from what was to come. He would have to go to Cullen and grovel. He still couldn't fathom that Cullen would forgo payment to use him as an example. While he sat staring at his feet, he wondered if the infomercial channel had some Star Wars item for sale. The breathing of Darth Vader was clearly audible over the high-pitched babble of the salesperson. The whole thing started to irritate James, and he reached to grab his remote to change the channel to another of the shopping atrocities in his cable selection. His grabbing hand didn't touch smooth glass though. His hand came into contact with rough cloth. His eyes shot up, and he shrank back into the couch. For a moment, his thoughts were totally blank, then he, stupidly, thought the infomercial had come to life. On his coffee table sat a person clad completely in black, not a smidge of skin was visible. The rather small man wore body armor complete with facemask and gloves. His neck looked a little robot like; a rectangular protrusion was incorporated in the skintight suit.

Behind the man, on either side of James's flat screen, stood the two goons he knew from Cullen's office. In a reflex, James's right hand flew to the back of his pants, only to grab onto his own back. Of course, his gun wasn't where it was supposed to be. He was in the sanctuary of his own home. His impenetrable fortress. A small movement to the left of the flat screen caught his attention, and at the sight of his own gun dangling by the barrel from the hand of the goon, his shoulders slumped, and he motioned for the eerily still figure on the coffee table to do his worst.

An almost feminine, robotic giggle came from Darth Vader's mini me. "You're a pathetic weasel, James. You're almost too pathetic for me to dirty my hands on, but Cullen wants an example. You'll do in a pinch. Watch your back tomorrow at ten a.m.; your time's up. Until we meet again, take care." The ninja spoke with a metallic-sounding robot voice. He rose from the table in an almost too graceful movement. James wondered if that thing on his table was human at all. He blinked, and to his utter horror, his house was empty when he reopened his eyes. Nothing reminded him of the encounter he was sure he just had. Until his eyes caught the brightly wrapped package on his coffee table.

He jumped up and ran to the hall table. There, as if it had never been moved, lay his pistol. A quick check taught him that his unwanted visitors hadn't even removed his ammo. He secured the gun at the back of his pants, no longer feeling secure in his own home. At a much more sedate, or maybe it was more fearful, tempo, he returned to the couch and opened the dreaded package. Inside was a second picture of Alice, only this one showed her clearly out of it. The syringe next to her bore a frightening picture though. There on the body of the syringe, a skull and crossbones stared back at him. To emphasize the picture, a posy of calla lilies sat in the box; the handle of the posy was made from that same syringe and held a yellowish residue.

All ideas James had held himself up by crumbled. This message brought it home to him more than clear. Edward Cullen would use him as an example to his bigger clients.

Inside the viewing room, Edward had made himself comfortable and watched everything unfold in James's living room. He sat in a comfortable chair munching on his favorite homemade Bella cookies, a mug of strong black coffee within reach. With a devilish smile, he saw all hope drain from James and panic set in.

"Now we're going to find out his important hiding places around the house. He'll start collecting everything he considers important," Garrett said from his own comfortable chair. He went on making notes on every spot James ran to as a headless chicken. Any information that was easily accessible after the job was done made cleaning up any evidence James might have left behind to incriminate his boss so much easier.

After they watched James gather some clothes in his duffle, it became more interesting. Underneath a throw rug behind the couch, James lifted some loose floorboards. He rummaged through his hiding place and took a few items, packed in newspaper, out before he meticulously restored the floor to its former state.

"Bingo!" Garrett exclaimed just as the door to the viewing room opened. Bella walked into the room dressed to kill as she often did when she had to attend a function.

"Hello, you two. I'm done with my function; another hundred homeless people will have shelter this coming winter. Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

"Honey, I'm glad you're back. You missed Conny taking his first step. James has become a bit stressed. I believe he won't sleep any time soon, if ever again, in this house."

Bella plopped herself down on Edward's lap, and together they watched their own reality TV show. They stayed there until a, by now, frantic James jumped from his bed after having been in it for all of fifteen minutes and ran out of the house. Garrett jumped up and ran to the computer on the other side of the room. Within minutes, a map of the city was displayed on one of the viewing monitors. A bright red dot showed them exactly where James was. A clever tracking device was placed on the one thing James would never leave behind. His gun.

The next day, after a long and sleepless night on the street, James was still running around trying to find a safe hideout. However, word was out on the street that Cullen was after him, and nobody wanted to burn their fingers on him. He was thrown out of all non-Cullen casinos, several dive restaurants, and the dogs had chased him off the dump. The only thing he could think of was to stay in motion and hiding.

He tried to fit in with groups of tourists who wandered the Strip, but it never worked for very long. Somehow, he kept spotting those gigantic goons who had permeated the nightmare that had assaulted him as soon as he closed his eyes. He didn't worry about the costumed front man they used. That had to be all window dressing. He just couldn't see that pipsqueak making a dent in a pack of butter. The get-up was scary; he could buy into that. But why did those goons constantly end up near where he was?

Thank heavens their size made it easy to spot them long before they saw him. Somehow, they seemed to know where to look for him. He had already switched off his phone; he couldn't be tracked any other way. He checked his clothes and his duffle. He even checked his gun. He couldn't find anything anywhere that shouldn't be there. Again he spotted those tall fuckers weaving through the crowd. The difference was that they now walked his way with purpose. James dove into an alley and hid behind a dumpster. He could spot the street between the wall and the stinking thing; the goons passed as if they still were on his tail. He sighed in relief.

"Well, well, well, right where I wanted you." A tinned voice spoke with glee from above James.

He fell back on his ass in shock, and the ninja-like thing was on top of him right away. It froze him in his place, the heightened level of fear now working against him. He was stunned. A lightning fast move later, his lights went out.

Edward had brought his office chair into the viewing room and stocked up on snacks. Sometime before, his Bella was nice enough to drop off lunch before she went out on another errand run. His viewing wall held several images, but two of those were of interest to him for now. The time to put his feet up and enjoy the show hadn't started yet. One image was the map that pinpointed James's position with a red dot. On it were another three dots in green. It was like a game of Pac-Man. Two of the green dots moved ever closer to the red in a determined pattern. The third dot was stationary, and with Edward's bird's eye view, he could see the red dot was herded to the stationary green one. Suddenly, the second monitor of interest showed movement. He was ever so grateful that Conny had allowed him to put a bodycam in his voice distortion box. James scurried into the alley Conny's cam showed and dove right behind the dumpster Conny was perched on top of inside a cardboard box. A minute later, James was laid out, unconscious from a rapid-working anesthetic.

A van backed up into the alley from the opposite side of the Strip, and James was loaded into the van. Edward stood up and took a toilet break because the real fun would soon be starting, and he wouldn't take a break during that. When he came back, the dash cam of the van showed him they were close. In the desert outside of town was a dumping place of old casino lighting rigs. Any fluorescent sign or lightbulb-lighted fixture that was replaced was dumped there. Recently, the most perfect piece had been left to rot away. An old wheel of fortune. All the spikes sticking out as handholds were sturdy and could be used to tie someone up. He couldn't wait to see what Conny would do with it.

James was unloaded from the van by Emmett and Felix, who were dressed in footed overalls. While Conny made sure that every lightbulb on the wheel was trashed, they stripped James, lifted him onto the wheel—stark naked, and tied him to it by his wrists and ankles. With every movement, James would shred the skin of his back on the ragged remnants of the lights. Once the dunce was secured firmly onto his wheel of misfortune, Emmett and Felix lifted a big container from the back of the van and sat down side-by-side in the back of it.

Conny opened the container and set up several high definition cameras that were linked to Edward's office; he immediately switched their feed to the two biggest monitors. The empty container was given back to the boys in the back of the van. They cleaned the bottom with a wet rag meticulously before replacing it inside the van.

Another smaller container was pulled out and handed to Conny. Edward broke out the snacks. That cheap, generic container was Conny's torture kit. Each and every kit was completely disposable. Every item would end up back in the container and left at the scene … with a generous amount of pure bleach to remove any trace of recognizable evidence.

A pained groan came from the direction of the misfortune wheel.

James woke up not sure what had happened. He was sure this had to be the hangover from hell. He had to have taken a bad hit. He felt trapped, his limbs wouldn't do what he told them, and everything hurt. Never before had a bad trip felt as if his entire back was slowly being shredded. He opened his eyes groggily and let out a groan.

"Well, lookie here. The worm finally makes an appearance," a canned voice gloated to his left.

He whipped his head around and screamed. A thousand knives dug into his back. He also discovered that his limbs would do as he wanted, if they weren't locked down to some contraption. A figure dressed in black from head to toe sauntered in his direction.

"You know it's funny that you kept running from the boys. You're not very informed in the lifestyle you try to follow. Ah well, tried is more opportune. Be advised that the boys are a publicly visible entity; they're there to look fierce. The real dangerous people in any criminal organization are the enforcers. The highly skilled torturers who will get the job done on the down low."

The figure in black grabbed the contraption James was trapped on and gave it a whirl. The centrifugal forces forced his body to move over the bed of knives. He couldn't stop the screams from erupting into the night sky. A menacing chuckle floated around him when his movement was stopped with a jolt.

"I'll tell you now that I'm the best of the best of the enforcers. I'm totally loyal to Cullen, and I'll do his bidding quite happily. You're a small fry in the sea of schmucks who don't honor their IOUs. However, your inability to comply with your commitments made it so Cullen wanted you to be an example. You're going to be my calling card for a long time. I'm inspired; you're going to be my masterpiece."

In the next hours, James learned that he never knew pain before. He was gagged after he was deemed too loud. His head was immobilized by tying his hair to the spikes of the wheel, almost as if he had gotten a halo. He was sure the knives at his back had reached his internal organs.

His ears had grown tired of the taunting mechanical voice of Cutthroat Conny, as he made sure to tell him every five seconds. It was a constant barrage of his indiscretions cited back to him. In between, his rapidly decreasing consciousness was battered by the names of those responsible of his pending demise: Cullen and Conny. The little ruthless pest made sure he stayed conscious and felt everything acutely. His wounds were doused in vinegar and salt.

Edward had his feet up on the coffee table and a large plate of nachos on his stomach. He was happily munching away to the enticing images of the two-pronged attack. The biggest monitor held the live feed from Conny. The next biggest was split four ways and showed every room in James's house. A small contingent of the cleanup crew were hard at work to make it seem as though James had never had any contact with the Cullens. From the latter location, he heard a rebel yell that could only mean one thing. Pay dirt.

Garrett addressed himself to the nearest camera. _"Boss, we've started going through his diaries back to front"_ —he went on without waiting for an answer— _"I think you can get your money back still. James's father opened an account in the Cayman's for him. His utter panic at losing his cat was more than grief for a pet. That cat has two chips; one of them holds more info readable with this adapted reader."_ He held some gadget up to the camera. _"That criminal wannabe was more stupid than you already thought. He wrote everything down in those journals of his. Even the collection slips you gave him are in there. All that stuff just sat there in that unlocked, hidden compartment in the floor."_ With one more shake of his grinning face, Garrett went on sifting through the hidden compartment.

Edward knew his crew in the house would make any sign of the cat and the Cullen presence in James's life disappear. Any and all information about his loan or the existence of Conny at his own side would also be constricted to their handwritten ledgers in the safe that, even after several police searches, was untraceable. There was a trapdoor in the floor of their bedroom, much like James's, only the trapdoor when opened showed a deep basement room decked out like a panic room. Nobody questioned the very thick concrete floor between the bedroom and the panic room. If the trapdoor was, however, opened with the hidden button inside the bedroom bookcase, the safe was opened, hidden inside the extra thick floor.

Setting aside his nacho plate, Edward brought his full attention back to Conny's artwork. He brought up the high-placed camera and watched Conny at work. The bird's eye view was the best. James's head was now colored red all over; the involuntary movements he made during the torture had yanked out clumps of hair. His arms and legs were skinned with great precision. The only thing Edward couldn't look at when it happened was the spiral cut made to James's pitiful dick. Conny commented that it was the only way to make his member an acceptable size. Edward could accept that reason, but he just had to cringe and look away when it happened.

Conny, as well as Edward, could see James was fading; it was getting harder and harder to keep him conscious. The skin of his breast was now mostly removed and folded open like a book and tied to the wheel with strands of James's hair. The high camera showed the overall picture, and James looked like some futuristic insect pinned into the collection of an alien. With a flourish, Conny placed his trademark finish, the final cut, an ear-to-ear deep slice of James's throat.

In a flurry of activity, Conny sanitized the crime scene. All the tools were thrown back into their container, which was then filled with bleach. The whole area around the wheel was swiped to erase the footprints. The boys had put extra shoe protectors over their overalls to not infect the van with the stuff under their feet. They tied a wide bar with a heavy net behind the van and drove one time around the dump to exit over their entry tire tracks. Just outside the dump, they waited for Conny, who joined them by walking backward, wiping away his footprints as he went. The container with bleach-drowned tools was left behind. Conny plopped in the back of the van and donned his own CSI overall over his clothes. Making absolutely sure that any dust he might have collected by climbing over the contraption was trapped inside.

Edward texted, with great urgency, to Emmett that they left the bird's eye view camera behind. Conny texted back almost as fast saying that one sat on a booby trap. If anyone touched it, it would self-destruct, and before placement, it was tested for prints. Edward shrugged and thought he should have known that Conny would be thorough. A glance confirmed that James's house was no longer online, which meant Garrett and his team had concluded their sweep of the residence, and any link between James and himself was erased from the world.

He shut off all the monitors and made his way to the back of the building. The loading dock was still deserted. Edward started to roll out packing paper all around the incinerator in the corner. A big rubbish bin was placed next to the dock that he opened to accept the van. A runner of paper was secured under the bin and ran to meet up with the carpet he laid around the incinerator. The first to arrive was Garrett, who had a small cotton bag and a large trash bag with him. To decrease the traffic at the dock, he had sent his team home already.

"Here's the reader and his journals. I didn't have time to read them all, so knock yourself out. He might have more interesting stuff to say. The doofus really wrote everything down. I'll just throw the trash in the incinerator then the bin won't be so clogged."

"Thanks, Garrett; great job tonight. I'm sure I'll call on your expertise again soon. Or it might be that I call you in for a bonus. I never expected to gain my money back on this one," Edward replied.

"Goodnight, boss."

Not ten minutes after Garrett left, the van backed into the dock. Emmett and Felix jumped out, no longer in their overalls. Diligently, they deposited their protective gear in the bin before greeting Edward and leaving to go home. Conny appeared from the back of the van, still dressed in the overalls.

"We passed a dumpster full of plastic so we left the cladding of the van there. It didn't stand out at all, same kind of quality, and best of all, no cameras anywhere on the block. I scrambled the cameras at the truck power wash plant. We'll have to keep the boys riding past that plant for a week or so, at all hours, to scramble them again. It can't be a one-time glitch," Conny said while he walked over the paper runner toward the incinerator.

Edward smiled and put a pile of clothes on a table near before he protected his clothes with another of the CSI-grade overalls. He walked up to Conny and helped him out of the garment; it disappeared into the furnace immediately. He then unzipped Conny's hood and removed the underlying voice box/camera setup. It was the only part of the costume that would be used again. He switched it off and put it on the table, away from the clothes there.

Conny removed his hood and the swim cap underneath. Long chestnut locks streamed down. With that one action, Conny turned back into the wife of the biggest boss in Vegas.

"Welcome back, love."

"Edward, this one was fun!" Bella squealed jumping up and down.

"Calm down, honey, or your hair will catch the particles you dislodge," Edward said, chuckling. He never was as glad he fell in love with the only child of Charlie the Cutter than in moments like this. Charlie never gave a damn about gender roles, and when it became apparent that he wouldn't get a son, he started training his successor, his daughter.

One thing Edward had changed when Charlie retired to his own tropical island was to hide Bella's identity behind the mask of Conny. He wanted to use the misogynistic attitude in the families to weave a web of subterfuge. Together, they portrayed the quintessential mob couple. An arrogant, confident, and ruthless boss with the demure, charitable, and clueless wife. That Bella was a thousand times more lethal and ruthless was hidden behind the smokescreen they created. The only ones in the know were Bella's bodyguards; they were the helpers with the looks to make nonviolent encounters menacing and the muscles to manhandle victims when needed.

Within minutes, Edward and Bella burned every stitch of clothing she had worn, followed by the contents of the bin and, finally, all the paper on the floor.

"Garrett struck gold tonight. The oaf wrote everything down in these journals. We need to contact Jasper; his new feline girlfriend has been chipped twice. The second chip holds all the information we need to get our money back after all. Garrett is in line for a substantial bonus if it works, but I'll wait with that until we know how clean we pulled this one off," Edward told Bella in the car while driving to their home.

"Really? So, if he just used that money to pay you instead of hiding it, he could still be alive now? I don't like that idea because the way I left him will truly be the best calling card in the future. I do believe there won't be a lot of back payments overdue for quite some time.

"Now let's get home. I need my beauty sleep for the charity committee meeting this afternoon."

"Congratulations, Bella," Edward said a week later, reading his email. "Garrett just reported that they didn't find anything useful when they processed the crime scene you left behind."

"Well, duh, of course I delivered a clue-free crime scene. What did you think I would do?"

"I'm just glad you're safe. They do know Cutthroat Conny is the culprit, but they can't prove it."

"Overprotective fool!" Bella exclaimed from behind her own computer screen. "Oh, the best news. Jasper just sent over the info he got with that reader you dropped off yesterday from the second chip in Alice. It's good he has no idea what that list of numbers means. He might have been tempted to keep it to himself to pay for Alice's trinkets. That cat is spoiled rotten, and she's only been there for two weeks!"

A knock sounded on the office door, and Felix stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"Detectives Jacob Black and Eric Yorkie are here and wish to speak to you regarding any dealings you might have had with a James Hunter," he said loudly with a smirk. He went on in a whisper. "Jacob is a blabbermouth who can't keep secrets; just let him yap on and he'll give you hints galore. Now, Eric is looking like he's fresh from the academy. Green as grass and staring at Jacob like he hung the moon."

He got the nod to let the detectives in and disappeared to the hall. Both Edward and Bella closed out their email accounts and cleared their browser histories. The door opened again, and a fairly large Native American man dressed in a cheap suit stepped in like he owned the place. Greedy eyes looked around the unremarkable place. The kitchen chair was replaced by two simple leather chairs, the bolt holes covered by a modern rug complementing the colors of the room. A short Asian American boy stepped hesitantly inside, following the long black ponytail of his senior. Jacob flashed his badge and introduced himself.

"Detective Jacob Black, homicide, and this is my partner Eric Yorkie." The smaller detective flashed his badge too. "We're here today to ask you some questions regarding James Hunter."

Edward leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow raised and a lopsided smile on his face. He calmly studied both detectives and slowly rose to his feet, buttoning his jacket. He stuck out his right hand about one third of the way over his desk. Jacob had to reach to shake his hand after he scrambled to his feet again because, after his introduction, he unceremoniously plopped into the nearest chair.

"Nice to meet you, gentlemen. Now, can you tell me how you came here because I've never heard the name you mentioned before," Edward said, sitting down again and gesturing for the detectives to sit down. He never introduced Bella, or himself, and his presence had so far taken up all of the detective's attention.

"Well, I find that highly suspect because Mike told me he had seen the man in these offices some months ago."

"Did he now? The name is foreign to me. Do you have a picture? He might have given a false name when he came."

Detective Yorkie rifled through a file folder and handed over a mug shot taken a few years earlier. Edward intently looked at the picture and then turned to Bella.

"What do you think? Did this ugly character ever come here?"

Bella stood up and walked around his desk to take a closer look. Jacob followed her every move with a look in his eyes that didn't much differ from the ones James had thrown at her. Edward leaned back, his jaw locked and eyes blazing. It took all of his restraint to remain somewhat affable. Bella took her time, slowly walking back to her seat and directly addressing Edward, and said, "I remember him but that was at least six months ago. I can't remember the name he gave us, but it wasn't James Huntley, I'm quite sure about that. He didn't qualify for a line of credit because he had outstanding debts already in several casinos around town."

"Hunter not Huntley," the disappointed voice of Jacob spat at Bella. Turning his attention back to Edward, he shrank back in his chair but continued. "Are you always dependent on your secretary for identification of your clients?"

"Excuse me! Are you always a rude dog to your witnesses?" Edward said in a freezing tone. His eyes still held Jacob pinned to his seat. "I don't care for your intrusion into my day any longer. If you can't behave yourself, I'll have to call the commissioner to file a complaint. Or, I can simply tell him during our golf game next Wednesday. Now, good day. I'm no longer inclined to remember anything for you."

Edward held up his arm and waved them out of his office. His foot on the call button for the boys. Felix immediately stepped inside, his back to the open door. "If the gentlemen will follow me," he said with a small bow of his head and a wide arm movement ending with him pointing out of the door.

Detective Yorkie scrambled to his feet and shot out of the room. Jacob slowly rose, with a wink to Bella, and sauntered out of the room. Calling over his shoulder, "This isn't over, Cullen. We know where to look."

Edward rolled his eyes at the empty threat and turned to Bella, who replaced her demure expression with a devious smile.

"Edward, Jacob has just cooked Mike's goose. It's obvious the two know each other. What do you think? Freak accident in a couple weeks? Something involving a rat and a dog."

"I agree, love. Jacob is shooting blanks. And, yes, but take your time. I'll make sure he's removed from this investigation, and a month after that happens, you can do your thing. I know you need some challenge now that your calling card made life boring, according to you.

"But first, strip! You know the drill."

 **Thank you for reading, as you can see I haven't ticked the complete box as I intend to at least think up one other chapter to deal with the rats that popped up in this story.**

 **Please leave a review**

 **Pien**


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